Back To The Beginning
by authorinprogress97
Summary: Delia Grace never had an easy life. All it took was one boy to change all of that for her.


_**I have discovered in the time that I was writing about Delia that I enjoyed writing about her and her past too much, so in order to appease my cravings, I have decided to write more about her.**_

_**Here you go! A little more detail about how she and Greg met back in high school. Let's just say that they came from a small town, kay? I mean, I already gave Greg a sister…**_

_**P.S I'm gonna change when they met to the tenth grade instead. Eighth grade is a little too young, don't you think?**_

_**Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, there would be a feisty blonde New-York born CSI for Nick and a cute red headed lab tech for Greg. I think that's all the description ya'll need.**_

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I looked at my ringing cell phone in disgust again before ignoring the call. I swear, if that woman calls one more time, I am either drowning myself or flinging my phone out the door. I'd throw it out the window, but the break room doesn't have windows.

I might have to get a new phone if I do though, and I can't really afford that.

"Why do you hate your mom so much?" a voice asked from the doorway. I turned my head and spotted Nick standing in the doorway.

"What gave you that idea?" I drawled, letting my head drop back onto the armrest, staring up at the ceiling. Hmm… the ceiling's really dull. It's all grey and boring. Come to think of it, so is the ceiling at my room. Well, not grey, but it's boring.

I could hear him by the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that your cell phone screen keeps showing 'Mother from hell' and you keep glaring at it like it's either going to bite you or run away."

"I wish it would," I mumbled, listening to it ring again. I snatched it up from the floor and ignored the call, putting my phone on silent. "And I don't hate her. She hates me," I added. "She always had and she always will. I'm just returning the favor."

"That a little harsh," he said, moving my feet and sitting down.

"No, it's not. She always took time to tell me that every night back when I was living at home. It's no surprise I wanted to move out as soon as possible."

"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "No mother is that cruel."

I laughed humorlessly. "You obviously haven't met my mother." I closed my eyes. "If it weren't for Greg, I'm pretty sure I would either be dead or be in jail or something. I don't know. Definitely not where I am right now."

Nick looked at me contemplatively. "Really now? Why would you say that?"

I shrugged. "Woman's intuition," I said sarcastically. My phone vibrated and I couldn't take it anymore. I took it and flung it out the door.

"Ow!" someone exclaimed. I shot up in my seat, seeing Greg holding my phone and rubbing his head.

"Oh my gosh!" I cried before running to him, grabbing my phone and checking it over. "Is it okay?"

He glared at me. "Thanks Dee."

I looked over at him nonchalantly. "You'll live." I turned my phone over in my hands. "I almost can't believe it's in one piece. Your head is as hard as a rock!"

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically. He spotted the name on the screen, a scowl appearing on his face. "What's she doing calling you?"

I shrugged. "Beats me."

"How long?" he growled. I shrugged again, avoiding eye contact.

"All night," I murmured, hoping he didn't catch it.

He snatched the phone out of my hands and answered the phone, snarling into the receiver, "Leave her alone or I will sue you for harassment!"

Ignoring the shouts of anger, he hung up and thrust it back into my hands. He ran a hand through his hair.

"You could have told me," he said, turning away from me.

I put a hand on my hip, cocking it out. "You're never rational when it comes to her."

"Neither are you." I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was probably rolling his eyes.

"I've been dealing with it my whole life."

"You shouldn't have to."

I sighed. "Just let it go, Greg."

He just shook his head. Whenever it came to the evil creature I loathe to call my mother, we always ended up having the same argument. It always ended with the same words: "Just let it go, Greg." Yet, he never did.

Sighing, I flopped down into the couch next to Nick. He had been sitting there observing us so quietly I had almost forgotten he was there.

"How did you two meet?" Nick asked suddenly.

"Huh?" I said, blinking at him. Well, that was unexpected.

"How did you two meet?" he asked again. "I'm just curious."

"Well, curiosity killed the cat," I pointed out.

"And satisfaction brought it back," he completed before adding, "and besides, I'm not a cat."

"…True," I mused. I shrugged. Why not? "Well, it was in our tenth grade…"

* * *

><p>"Delia Grace, get your lazy ass out of bed and get ready for school," I heard my mother call out angrily.<p>

I sighed, getting out of bed. I wasn't sleeping anyway. I was just lying down in bed, trying to hide from the rest of my family. I sighed again, making my way to the bathroom.

Another day of being ignored at school and having verbal abuse being hurled at me at home. Whoop de freaking do.

I quickly got showered and stuck my hand into my closet, grabbing something and taking it out. I put on the t-shirt and ratty jeans I got and put it on over my undergarments. I made my way to my dresser, cursing when I knocked my shin against my bed railing again.

I brushed out my still wet auburn hair and left to air dry. I applied some lip gloss and grabbed my backpack be the side of the doorway, making my way down.

I stuck my head out of my room, seeing no one in the hallway. I quietly made my way to the kitchen, intent on making my way out of my house without running into my mother, who just loved to start off my day with telling me how I would never amount to anything, or my siblings, who just looked at me in disgust.

I made my way to the kitchen without running into anybody, thankfully. I quickly grabbed two pieces of toast and made for the backdoor. However, before I could open the door and escape, I heard someone shuffle into the kitchen.

I looked up, my eyes widening. My mom stood in the doorway, glaring at me. People like to tell me that I look like my mom, with my dad's hair and eye colour. I guess it's true. I only have one photo of my dad, which I keep in my wallet. He left when I was two, so I can't remember anything about him. I'd ask my elder siblings, Bree and Andrew, but they wouldn't answer my question anyway. They'd just slam the door in my face or tell me to go away.

"You good for nothing bitch," she slurred. "What are you still doing here? Get out!"

Her hand went to a fork that was on the table and I quickly opened the door and ran out, hearing the fork hit the wood with a thud. I rested against the door for a moment before looking at my watch. I started my walk to school, cutting through our neighbor, Mrs Goodwin's, lawn. I vaulted the gate, waving at Mrs Goodwin.

She waved back, smiling at me. I took my time, munching on my toast. Despite my mother's spaz attack earlier, I was forty five minutes early, and it was a fifteen minute walk to school. Other kids wouldn't mind going to school early, because they have friends. I, however, am not like other kids. I don't have friends. Sad, I know, but I don't mind. That much.

Meh, who needs friends anyway? I have lived perfectly fine for the past fifteen years without friends. So what if I'm a little lonely?

I sighed, brushing the bread crumbs from my hands. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, blowing a strand of hair out of my face. Okay, not _a little_ lonely. A lot lonely. Well, it's only high school. I'm not gonna stay here long anyways. The moment I get the chance, I'm getting out of this tiny town and its boringness. I'm gonna find somewhere far away and get an exciting job.

I stopped in front of my locker, letting my backpack fall to the ground at my feet. I opened my locker, taking out the books for my first period after homeroom, biology. I stuffed the books in my bag and made my way to homeroom, finding a sit in the back, at the corner.

I opened up a book I had been reading for the past few days – _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_ by Arthur Conan Doyle – and settled in for another day at school. Students slowly started trickling in, but I didn't take any notice of them.

Miss Daniels walked in, her heels clacking against the wooden floor. The class immediately became quieter. She looked over at us over the rim of her glasses, her piercing green eyes looking over at all of us. I placed a bookmark at the page I was reading, slipping the book into my backpack.

Miss Daniels had her hair in a bun as usual and was wearing a pretty knee length skirt and a nice button up blouse. She might look nice and kinda nerdy with her glasses, but you cross her and you're gonna get your ear twisted or get sent to the principal's office.

She's awesome. She's probably my favorite teacher. It might have something to do with the fact that she calls me Dee or actually _knows_ my name without looking at the roster. I don't know. It feels like she actually cares about me.

I heard the bell ring and everyone began heading for their next class. I blinked. Had one period really passed by that fast?

I stood up, slinging my backpack onto one shoulder and making my way to biology. As I passed Miss Daniels, she smiled at me. I smiled back a little hesitantly before ducking my head and walking to class.

When I got into class, I scanned the room. Dang. All the corner seats have been taken! I sighed, taking the only seat available: the seat by the window.

Sinking down into my seat, I took out my biology textbook. Mr Thomas walked in, his files almost falling out of his arms. As per typical teenager, we just watched as he made his way to his desk, nobody offering to help him. Finally, he reached his desk, his files almost slipping off the desk.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen," he said. I rolled my eyes. Only he would say that. Everyone else called us kids. "Project!"

All of us groaned. If there was one thing that made me normal was a hate of school projects.

"Now, now," he continued. "This project counts for almost seventy five percent of your grade. Well, you and your partner's grade. It's a project of your choice, so be creative!"

This time, I was the only one to groan. Great, partners. No one knows me, so I'll get someone who doesn't know me. Ugh.

"Your partners have already been chosen for you. No trading," he added. Everyone groaned. I just slammed my head onto the table. "I will call out your name, followed by your partner's."

I sat up, leaning my head on my hand. I'd rather do it alone.

I doodled at the corner of my biology textbook. I looked up at the biology teacher, Mr Thomas. I'm not kidding. His last name really is Thomas. I don't know what his first name is though. Hey, wouldn't it be weird if his first name was Thomas too? Then he'd be like Thomas Thomas!

I snickered under my breath at that thought. I know, I'm a weird teenager.

"Delia Grace…" I looked up when he called my name, wondering who my partner would be. I sighed slightly. As long as I don't get someone who would "let" me (insert heavy sarcasm here) do the project all by myself or someone as dumb as a doorknob. "And Greg Sanders."

I looked up at my partner, seeing a look of confusion on his face. I'm not surprised that he doesn't know who I am. Most people don't. Even those that do only vaguely remember my name and how I look like. And that's just the teachers. I'm pretty sure there are only about three people in my grade who know me, and they usually ignore me when they pass me in the hallway.

I, however, know everybody. Well, almost everybody. I might be considered unpopular but I know people. They just don't necessarily have to know me.

When he told us to move to sit with our partners to discuss the project, I sighed, gathering up my stuff. He definitely won't be moving to where I'm sitting, since he probably didn't even know I existed.

I stopped in front of his table and he looked at me, raising an eyebrow. God, I hope he isn't one of those jerks.

"I'm Delia Grace," I muttered, locking my gaze with his for moment before looking away again, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"Oh."

I looked up at him, seeing an emotion flicker across his face for a second before disappearing. It was so fast, I don't really know what emotion it was. Was it disappointment, disgust? It could even be recognition, but I doubt it.

"Er, sit down," he said, pushing his books away from the chair next to him so I could sit down. I shuffled into the seat, putting my backpack onto the table.

"So," I said, turning to him. "What do you want to do?"

"What?" he asked, looking at me blankly.

I sighed, mentally giving an eyeroll. _Of course,_ I thought. _I get one of those dumb as a doorknob kids. I'd almost wish for a partner that would push all the work to me. At least I'm guaranteed a good grade._

"For the project," I said slowly, as if I was speaking to a small child. "What do you want to do first?"

He blinked. "Well, since we're going to be working on it for a while, how about we get to know each other first?"

I looked at him strangely. I couldn't help it. He was pretty much the only person who wanted to get to know me. At home, I was an outcast and at school, I was practically invisible girl.

"Why?" I asked, suspicious of him.

He blinked at me again. "Er, it wouldn't be so awkward to be working together then, 'cause we're going to be working on this project for a month."

"Okay… I'm Delia Grace, but you can call me Dee," I said, holding out my hand.

"I'm Greg Sanders. Just Greg," he replied, taking my hand.

"Okay then, Just Greg," I joked, causing him to smile. "Now, what do you want to know?"

I think this might be the start of a beautiful friendship. Or at least the start of _some_ sort of friendship.

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_**Well, there you go! More of Dee! It'll be a while till I'll be able to update, so don't get your hopes up that I'll update soon.**_

_**As always, please review! XD**_

_**~Alex**_


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